Games

So I usually leave work around 2:15 each day, even though we're technically not scheduled to get off until 3:55. The school I work at is on a block schedule, so I teach three classes and have fourth block planning which starts at 2:09. I don't sign out or check out with anyone because I figure there's so many people who work here and so much junk going on that no one has time to keep up with little ole me. I get home on the sofa in my draws and a t-shirt ( I start stripping at the door) chillin' eating me some pork fried rice and chicken wings and my cell phone rings. It's someone from the school, but you know it's the main number, so there's no way for me to tell who it is. I answer and it's one of the assistant principals who is my primary evaluator. Let's call him Mr. G. The conversation goes something like this:

JayBee: Hello
Mr. G.: Hey JayBee, I need to meet with you.
JayBee: Um..okay..can it wait til tomorrow?
Mr. G: Naw, we need to do it today.
JayBee: What's it about?
Mr. G: We can't talk about it over the phone. We need to discuss it face to face.
JayBee: Okay...um give me about 15 minutes and I'll come over there.
(In my mind I'm like crap because I'll have to get dressed and drive back to work to see what the freak he wants.)
We go back and forth a little bit more. I've forgotten now exactly what he said to make me say this:

JayBee: Mr. G., stop playing games. You know I'm not on campus.
Mr. G.: I know you're not. Didn't I tell yo black azz not to be leaving without anyone knowing?
JayBee thinks to himself,"I don't remember him saying it, but whatever" I don't respond.
The conversation fizzled. He really didn't need to meet with me, but he and another teacher decided to "get me" by calling me knowing I wasn't at work. Luckily for me he like me and he wasn't being serious. The realism is though, we too m effin old to be playing games. If you want something from me, just say so.

The thing that I don't like about asking people who are in authority to do stuff is that there is the chance they could say no. Me being me, if it's something that I've already decided that I'm going to do, I'm going to do it anyway. If I do it and you've already said no then you'll think I'm being insubordinate. That's why I'd rather ask for forgiveness than ask for permission. Umma do me (Rocko) and if it's a problem later on, I'll just be like my bad--I didn't know--I'll do better or some similar half-azzed excuse.

I Get It Now

The title of the previous post was actually a little premature. Now I can say that I am officially in recovery. After I took the entire prescription, the rash got worse. I don't know if my body rejected it or if I'm allergic to prednisone or what, but it got worse rather than better. Since then I ordered some stuff online that is supposed to eradicate the condition. I noticed today that most of the ones of my arms, face, and some of the ones on my stomach are beginning to dry up. Maybe a couple more weeks and I'll be back to normal. At least I'm hoping it won't be much longer than that. I can't help but wonder if God is communicating something to me through this. You know how they say everything happens for a reason? Well maybe He needed to slow me down so that I would reassess some things in my life. I will hasten to say that it has worked. I get it. I need to do better in my personal, professional and spiritual lives. I've vowed to do some things differently. For one, I'm really going to work on forgiving that man my mother claims is my father. In addition, I'm taking a step back when it comes to offering (unsolicited) advice to friends/colleagues. Only at someone's behest will I put my mouth on their situation/issue. This is particularly challenging for me because when someone comes to me with a problem (or something that I perceive to be a problem) I instinctively go into fix it mode. This little bump in the road (no pun intended) has forced me to pray much more and seek God more closely. I've known for quite some time that my spiritual life was grossly off kilter, but I was complacent in what I was doing--half going to church, not praying or reading the Bible, not consulting Him for guidance and direction. I know better and this has made me remember my roots because for the issue I'm experiencing, there really is not another being on whom I can rely save and except for Him. I get it now. I'm listening.

Listening to Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come"

In Recovery

My niece noticed two red bumps on my forearm during my visit home for Christmas. I hadn't noticed them myself, but I did think them odd. Over the next maybe 8-9 days more of them appeared. It was at this point that I became concerned because I didn't know what they were or from whence they came. (Check that Bible-esque language.) I left work early yesterday to go see the doctor. The bumps did itch, but just ever so slightly and not all the time. They are on my chest, arms, legs and stomach. I waited in the doctor's office for what seemed just short of an eternity, because before the doctor was to see me he got an emergency call and had to step out. He took a quick look at the bumps, reared back in his chair and listened to me answer the questions that he asked and finally gave me a diagnosis. He said they were mulluska something or 'nother. He told me they can come from children or adults--anyone whose skin with whom you have come in contact. He gave me a two prescriptions. The first one is prednisone which had a laundry list of side effects, but is supposed to be very effective. The other thing he gave me is Zyterc, an antihistamine and to quell the itching. I'm hoping by next Friday, at least the bumps will be all dried up/gone away. I'll keep you (all one of you) informed. In other health-related news, I tried a colon hydrotherapy treatment today. The initial sharp pain of the tube insertion subsided within seconds and let's just say the flood gates began to open. The realism is that the initial insertion was so momentarily uncomfortable that as reflex I grabbed the lady because I was out of sorts. It's all good though. I left with my dignity and manhood intact.

Stuff

I'm blogging from my sister's laptop in Savannah. I tried to leave to go back home, but she phoned me to let me know that I left a bag and my coat. I decided to turn around and return to gather my things. Now I'm just waiting until my mom gets off work before I leave. I already saw her today, but I'm a little sleepy so that gives me an excuse to see her one more time and will allow me to get some rest.

Mrs. Campbell, who I call my other mother, said something to me that helped me see things differently with regard to him*. She told me that he already has to answer for his wrongs. I'll be judged based on how I interact with him. That really helped me. I can be cordial. I just have to limit my engagements with him though, because I'm not nearly as strong as it may seem. My inclination is to lash out at him, so I have to be really careful not to go around him too much.

The whole holiday thing went okay. I did leave the house the night before Christmas and considering getting a room, but I decided to return. My mother seems so happy now that I'm home. I know she misses me because it is so rare that I come. She knows why though. She doesn't necessarily like it, but she does know. We only talk about it on occasion. It's kinda like gays in the military - don't ask don't tell. We choose to ignore the big pink elephant that did the somersault in the middle of the living room.

I was glad to see my aunts and uncles and cousins and brother and sister and their families. One brother didn't make it. He and his wife went to her parents' house. I guess that's what you have to do when you're married, but they also went there for Thanksgiving as well. On top of that they didn't send a gift for my mother. He claimed he couldn't afford to buy any gifts this year. He recently got a job and did you miss the part where I said they went to the other in laws' house. We're talking about a three hour drive. I started to call him and go off, but a part of my personal growth and reflection has been for me to take my mouth off people and their situations. As much as I would like to question whether they purchased a gift for his wife's mother, I'm gonna try my best to leave it alone. I'm not trying to make comparisons, but I just have some questions...

This is all over the place. I just checked my email and a guy contacted me about a job. I need to decide whether I plan to follow up with that or not....I could use the extra bread to help me with my relocation expenses.

Sayings

If I can't believe everything you say, then I can't believe nothing you say. (I am aware of the double negative.)

This is one of the most poignant sayings that I have ever heard. It speaks to honesty and integrity--two closely related ideas that are of paramount importance to me. If you want the fight of your life, say something against my character. I can handle all other attacks against me. You can call me short, fat, ugly, stink, stupid, etc., but under no circumstances can you assassinate my character. Your name is all you have and when people attack your name they in essence attempt to alter your destiny. I say alter your destiny because when other people hear what someone who has attacked you has said, they engage you in conversation and in deed as if what the attacker said is/was the gospel truth. I'm not sure where this diatribe came from, but I just had this on my heart. It's not like anything like this has happened to me recently, but I just felt like putting this out there.

In other news, a teacher at my school beat up a student, a kid set a desk on fire, and we have random students (one of whom is in my 3rd block class) pulling fire alarms for kicks. East Side High.

What are some of your favorite sayings and why do they speak such volumes to you?

Action!

It is difficult for other people to understand why I'm not all gung-ho about going home for the holidays. I realize that most people want nothing more than to be with their families during this time of year. However, for me, I'm not feeling the holidays like that. As a matter of fact, I choose not to go home very often because I have so many issues with some of the things going on there. Perhaps most people grew up in with a nice home environment. That is not the context from which I draw my lived experience. Moreover, I believe that it is because most people had a "normal" home life, that they find it hard to understand when someone from a dysfunctional situation chooses to distance themselves from home.

For one, my mother's husband (until I see a blood test I won't call him my f____r), has had both legs amputated and is blind and still calls himself "pastoring" a church. He needs to sit down somewhere. How can someone in his condition effectively lead a flock of parishoners? On top of the health issues, he has so many psychological issues that it is not funny. I dont' have the emotional energy right now to go into detail, but suffice it to say ole dude is crazy. The sad part is that he thinks it's everyone else--a hallmark of people in his mental state.

The reason most people cannot wrap their minds around someone adamantly refusing to be involved in home life is because of what I call "The Script." Society has written a stage play in which our roles are defined, complete with stage directions. According to the script, any dutiful son should be home with family, sitting around the fireplace reminiscing on days gone by. I'd much rather skip meals for three days. (Anyone who knows me knows how much I love to eat.) People who deviate from the script are labeled as social misfits by society. I do not apologize for deviating from the script. If anyone had a home life like I had, and I realize that other people had it so much worse, then they would understand why I choose to exit stage left, rather than move in closer.

I have no desire to have a relationship with that man. He keeps calling me and I keep ignoring his calls. Last night I was duped into answering the phone. I have his number stored as Don't Answer, but for some reason I looked at the digits instead of the words and hit the talk button. As soon as the interrogation began I had regretted not reading, after all, reading is fundamental. The question about why I haven't returned calls came up. So as not to have a heated discussion in front of my company I simply said I'd been busy. Of course, he didn't like that answer and asked me if I was angry with him. That's the understatement of the freakin' decade. I didn't even have language to have that conversation with him so I had to end it so that my attitude wouldn't be bad, since I was on my way out.

When I talk to some of my friends about how I feel they try to tell me how I should feel and what I should do. I am not interested in how you think I should feel or what you think I should do. That's why I rarely discuss it because most people simply cannot wrap their minds around the decisions that I have made with respect to this situation. Their advice always heads toward trying to talk to him and getting over it, etc. I really can't be mad at them because those are the types of answers that should be given to someone based on what is printed in the script. What they don't understand is that the copy of the script that I received was markedly different from the ones that they read. One of my friends claims to "get it" but at the same time always remarks about how she thinks I'm wrong for this and that. That means that you DON'T get it!! What annoys me is that people want me to detail some life-shattering event that caused me to feel such resentment toward him. Since no single event exists (i.e. molestation, abuse, drug use,etc.) that would be considered "bad" enough for me to feel this way, people dismiss how I feel. Again, the script dictates that there had to be some capital offense before you can say that a parent is not worthy of your time, rather than the sum of all the years of your existence, with every passing day spent with a person more miserable that the previous.

When I am done with someone I am done. Come hell or high water. It is over. Finished. (Notice the pattern 5-3-1). The part I hate most is that I have withdrawn from my mother as well. She likes to encourage me to speak to him as well. That type of behavior only makes me reluctant to call her as well. As a matter of fact, it makes me resentful on some level, as she should clearly understand why I feel and behave this way. She's just a Christian though. It doesn't matter what someone has done, she believes in forgiveness. I do too. However, I subscribe to a brand of forgiviness that does not require that I still interact with the offender. I can wash my hands of you and be fine. Truthfully, when he's no longer in the picture I'll make up for this lost time between my mother and I. Given his health, I don't think it should be much longer.

Leave it to Hallmark

A part of my rearing was done in a town that had a population of about 872 called Screven, Georgia. It wasn't until 1989 that the family moved to Savannah, so I spent about six years in Screven. The town recently like in the last five years got an additional stoplight. It already had one stoplight and a caution light. There were railroad tracks that separated the Black side of town from the other side. Needless to say, there was little mixing--as a matter of fact I can only recall seeing white people at school and at the local grocery store. I don't ever remember seeing a single white person in my neighborhood.

Anywho, there was a revered former teacher who had been diagnosed with cancer. At age six I didn't know what cancer was, but I knew it would eventually lead to her death. I never had this woman as a teacher, but when the news about her illness spread through town, and I listened to people recount tales of how she chastised them when they were wrong and how she inspired them to greatness I wished that I had had an opportunity for my life to have been touched by her. Since I fate would not allow her to inspire me, I thought I'd do something to inspire her.

I decided to send her a personalized greeting card. I drew her a nice picture on the front and on the inside scribed the words, "Get well soon slut." I drew another picture on the back of the card and headed down the street to deliver my well wishes. When I reached her house I proudly knocked on the door and gave the card to her son. He was about sixteen or so I guess. He said thank you and glanced at the message on the inside. His countenance fell. I was perplexed, even though I didn't know the word perplexed at the time. He told me he'd make sure everyone saw the card. Of course my intention was that his mother got the card, but in my youthful ignorance I swelled with pride when he said that he'd show it to everyone. I asked him if it was okay for me to get a pear from the tree and he said yes. I scaled the tree and bopped back home.

I can remember using the bathroom and my aunt burst in and said that I was in trouble. I didn't know why, but somehow I figured that it related to that card that I delivered. She said a bunch of stuff that I don't remember or would never repeat and said she'd tell my parents when they got home. I was nonchalant because I didn't know what I had done wrong. All I knew was a lady was sick and I tried to cheer her up by giving her a card. When my parents got home I got yelled at and got my azz tore up! Nobody ever bothered to explain to me that the message in the card was offensive.

The reason I used the word slut is because my sister and aunt were in the next room while I was designing the card and I kept hearing them call this girl named Katrina a slut. They used the word so frequently that I thought it must mean something good. I was able to sound it out and spell it using phonetics. I think my sister and aunt are the ones who should have actually been punished. I was impressionable.

Years later I spoke to my parents about the severe beating that I received as a result of that incident and explained to them one of the numerous parenting mistakes they made. The realism is that it is not effective to punish someone without explaining why they are being punished. When I told them this they said they were disciplining me. I told them that punishment and discipline are not the same thing. Discipline seeks to replace negative behaviors and may involve consequences. Punishment only involves consequences.

In the future I think I'll leave the greeting cards to the professionals.